


Respite

by sailoreyes67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Schmoop, Wee!chesters, gencest, sleeping, spn season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailoreyes67/pseuds/sailoreyes67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam sleeps, and Dean watches over him. A drabble duet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. March 1st, 1986

Technically, the could sleep under the clean motel blankets, but Dean doesn’t want to. Their blanket is theirs, and smells of long-sour milk (from the time Sammy spilled cereal on it), the Impala, dust, and gunpowder.  
  
Sammy’s head smells of curly hair that kind of needs both a cut and a wash, peanut butter and that soft, subtle “baby” scent that hasn’t quite worn off him yet. It will though, Dean knows, and it makes him sad. It will be gone soon. Even now you can only really smell it when he’s sleeping; like now, one hand fisted in Dean’s t-shirt.  
  
Dean breathes out, long and deep, and then breathes in all those familiar smells as he buries his own face in Sammy’s dirty hair, throws his arm over Sammy’s pudgy shoulder and finally, he allows himself to fall asleep.  
  
Dad said to keep watch, but he also said nothing bad would come in if he locked all the doors and windows, and made sure every one of them was thoroughly salted, and Dean did. He even put iron down for good measure. They’re fine. Anyway, if something bad does come in, Dean will wake up.  
  
The clouds part and the moon shines straight in their window, but Dean’s vision is filled with brown hair and pale skin, and his nose is full of... _(not home, he’ll never have that again, never, but what he does have.)_ ...love, and it doesn't wake him up.


	2. {just after 6.14}

They’re in the Impala, the bright stars rocking overhead, or seeming to in his half-awake haze, through the curved glass of the windows. Sammy’s sleeping peacefully, keeled over against the window in his usual seat even though Dean told him to take the back.

Last night there were nightmares, and Sam was panicky and disoriented when Dean woke him, staring around like he’d never seen a motel room before. Dean had patted him on the shoulder and tried to hide how his hands were shaking, recited a litany of “it’s okay”s and “I’m here”s and just barely managed not to stammer.

So this, tonight, is especially blessed. Sam breathing deeply and slow.

Dean can’t sleep, not yet at least, not with his mind going so fast over the family he let down and whatever’s lurking behind the wall in Sam’s mind. The fact that he can hardly do anything.

Sam’s hair smells of silly shampoo, and needs a cut, like always. Dean twirls a lock of it around his finger.

Sammy sighs slightly and shifts position. Dean freezes, not wanting to be caught with his hand in Sam’s hair like a friggin’ girl, but he doesn’t wake up, just opens his mouth and starts snoring in Dean’s ear.

Dean rolls his eyes as if he’s really annoyed, but deep down, he doesn’t mind this. If anything, it’s a lullaby. It's a distraction for when he tries not to think about things that hurt (Lisa, Ben--- no, fuck.) Anyway, it’s so much better than Sam screaming, or going catatonic and silent, or whatever.

They’re fine. _(They’re fine.)_

Hell is not breaking loose tonight.

Dean moves his hand down from Sam’s hair, but leaves it on the small of his back. He leans his head against the back of the seat, and sleep washes up to meet him.


	3. epilogue

It slips onto Sam’s shoulder by morning, Dean’s head that is, and Sam wakes up with a squawk because of it. Dean says he should’ve slept in the back like he was told. (Sam calls Dean a jerk. Dean calls Sam a bitch.) They don't say that aloud because they're just not there yet, but the words are there.  
  
All is right in the world.


End file.
